2 acessos
Am Oh, the drums are so mournful G Am My dear, oh, my love Dm Am As my thoughts they are turning your way Dm Am Where are the eyes G E I beheld with my own Am Dm Am On that long ago lazy day? Dead are the leaves On the stark battlefield The stench of the flesh sickens me I sleep soaking wet a And the worms eat my bread The mourning of men fills the air Oh, green are the leaves On the old apple tree Those sweet perfumed blossoms of spring Entwined in your hair A smile in your eyes A soft blade of grass for a ring Oh, the drums are so mournful My dear, oh, my love As my thoughts they are turning your way Where are the eyes I beheld with my own On that long ago lazy day? On that long ago lazy day